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The young man in the hospital bed coughs tiredly, takes a few irregular breaths with his eyes closed, then whispers to himself:

‘No, no, no …’

There’s no doubt that the man lying in the bed in front of him is Mikael Kohler-Frost.

‘You’re safe now, Mikael,’ Joona says.

Irma Goodwin is standing silently behind him, looking at the emaciated man in the bed.

‘I don’t want to, I don’t want to.’

He shakes his head and jerks, tensing every muscle in his body. The liquid in the drip-bag turns the colour of blood. He’s trembling, and starts to whimper quietly to himself.

‘My name is Joona Linna, I’m a detective inspector, and I was one of the people who looked for you when you didn’t come home.’

Mikael opens his eyes a little, but doesn’t seem to see anything at first, then he blinks a few times and squints at Joona.

‘You think I’m alive …’

He coughs, then lies back panting and looks at Joona.

‘Where have you been, Mikael?’

‘I don’t know, I just don’t know, I don’t know anything, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know anything …’